Short Straw

by Stuart Woods

  "Yes."

  "That means there's a ferry. Instead of driving straight up the road to Tijuana, why don't we take the ferry and drive up the Baja peninsula. It won't take much longer, and the policia won't be expecting it."

  "I like it, Cupie; good thinking." Vittorio turned and looked at Barbara in the back seat. "You okay with that?"

  "Good idea," she said. Barbara thought it was a really good idea, but not for the reason Cupie and Vittorio did.

  Thirty-two

  JOE BIG BEAR SAT IN HIS PICKUP A HUNDRED YARDS UP THE mountain from Ed Eagle's driveway. He checked his watch again: eight o'clock. As if a button had been pushed, Eagle's Mercedes came out of the driveway and turned downhill toward Tesuque. Joe did not follow; there was no point. There was just the one road.

  He waited until the car had disappeared down the road, then he started the pickup and drove slowly down the hill. Halfway to the village, he went round a bend, then pulled over at a wide place on the shoulder and got out. This was good, he thought. Eagle would come around the bend and see the truck there with the hood up. Joe would step out and flag him down, as if he needed help. Eagle would recognize him and stop, roll down the passenger window. Joe would put both barrels into him, get back in his pickup and drive away.

  He waited in the spot for another half hour, and no one drove by. No commuters at this time of day, except Eagle. Good.

  ED EAGLE WALKED into his office at 8:30 a.m. and called the agent representing the seller of Susannah's new house. Within a few minutes he had moved up the closing a week. He called Susannah.

  "Hello?"

  "Good morning. How did the unpacking go?"

  "Very well, thanks, and I got a good night's sleep. By the end of the day it's going to look like I've always lived here."

  "Good. I moved up the closing to this Friday. That okay with you?"

  "Sounds great."

  "Can you fly here tomorrow?"

  "I can. I think I might even be able to wangle a seat on the Centurion Jet. Rick Barron has a place in Santa Fe, and he goes every weekend."

  "Let me know, and I'll meet you at the airport."

  "Great, because I don't have a car in Santa Fe, yet. I'll have to buy one."

  "I'll take you car shopping."

  "That would be very nice."

  "And I'll cook you dinner tomorrow night."

  "That would be wonderful. You sure you don't mind putting me up until Friday?"

  "Longer, if you can't get your furniture here by then."

  "I've already told them to ship it. I'll call and see when I can expect it to arrive."

  "Call me from the airplane and let me know your ETA tomorrow." He gave her his cell phone number.

  "Will do. I'm looking forward to seeing you."

  "And I you." Eagle hung up feeling just wonderful.

  They drove into Mazatlan and followed the signs toward the ferry. Vittorio pointed ahead. "There's a pack-and-ship place," he said, pulling into a parking place. "I'll be right back." He got out of the car.

  Barbara, lying in the rear seat, lifted her head and watched him go, the FedEx envelope in his hand. Less than ten minutes later, he returned empty-handed. She was very disappointed with him. When Ed got the envelope with the blank pages, he'd be on the phone to Vittorio, and there would be hell to pay.

  She lay back down and thought about her plan. It wasn't foolproof; she'd have to get lucky. On the other hand, she'd always been able to make her luck, one way or another.

  HALF AN HOUR LATER they rolled onto the car ferry. Barbara stole a look around as they drove on. It wasn't very big: half a dozen vehicles and some foot traffic.

  "Barbara," Cupie said, "you're going to have to stay where you are; we can't take any chances. There's a snack bar one deck up. Can I bring you anything?"

  "No," she replied. "I'm going to take a nap. How long is the ferry ride?"

  "An hour and a half," Cupie replied. "Vittorio, you want a sandwich?"

  "No, I'm going to the top deck, I think. I like to be as far from the water as possible on boats like this."

  "Suit yourself." The two men got out of the car.

  Barbara thought back to their first dip in the Pacific the day before. Vittorio had refused to go into the water more than waist deep. Vittorio couldn't swim.

  HAROLD FUENTES sat in the dining hall of the Santa Fe County Correctional Center and ate his Jell-O. It wasn't going down very well. This Joe Big Bear had pissed him off. Big Bear had taken twelve thousand, five hundred dollars of Harold's money and insulted him in the process. The man had no respect, and Harold was very big on respect.

  Harold had already decided to kill Big Bear as soon as he got out. He knew where the guy lived, in that trailer next to the junkyard on the road to the airport, so it wouldn't be all that hard. When it was done he'd ransack the trailer and find the money, get it all back. But as he thought some more about it, he didn't relish doing the actual deed. After all, Big Bear had weapons of his own, and he might be a light sleeper. Then Harold smiled to himself. Maybe there was a better way.

  He finished his lunch, then went and stood in line at the bank of pay phones outside the dining hall, fingering the quarters in his pocket. He'd show the son of a bitch, then he'd get his money back.

  WHEN EAGLE GOT BACK from lunch, Betty followed him into his office and closed the door.

  "What's up?" he asked.

  "You had a phone call a few minutes ago," she said.

  "Who?"

  "I don't know, but the caller ID. said it came from the county jail."

  "We got any clients in there right now?"

  "This wasn't from a client; it was about a client."

  "Who?"

  "The caller said that your client, Joe Big Bear, is going to try to kill you, so to watch your ass."

  Eagle sat down. "Why would Joe want to kill me?" he asked. "I mean, I just got him off a triple-murder rap."

  "The caller didn't say why; he just said that Big Bear was going to try and kill you."

  "That doesn't make any sense," Eagle said. "Well, thanks for letting me know, Betty, but I wouldn't worry about it."

  "I think the guy was right; you'd better watch your ass."

  "I will, thank you."

  The phone rang, and Eagle spoke to another client. He forgot about the earlier message.

  WHEN THEY REACHED the snack-bar deck of the ferry, Cupie put his hand on Vittorio's arm before he could continue up the stairs. "Wait a minute," he said.

  "What's up, Cupie?"

  "There's something wrong about this kidnapping thing and the interest of the Mexican police in our Barbara."

  "What do you mean, wrong?"

  "I mean, these kidnapping rings down here have got this down to a science: they pick on business executives whose companies have big insurance policies covering kidnapping. They snatch a CEO, or somebody like that, then they do a deal for five or ten million dollars. The insurance company pays, the businessman gets sent home, maybe minus an ear, and everybody but the insurance company is happy."

  "Yeah, I've heard about that. What's your point?"

  "My point is, they wouldn't be chasing Barbara around for the three hundred grand in traveler's checks in her handbag. That's small potatoes to these people."

  "It doesn't sound like small potatoes to me," Vittorio said.

  "Not only is it small potatoes, but it's one hell of a lot of trouble for them, too. They've lost one man and had another shot."

  "That means nothing to these people. To them, life is cheap."

  "And we messed up their Suburban pretty good, too."

  "Well, maybe we pissed them off enough that they would keep looking for her."

  Cupie shook his head. "I don't think so. I think it's something else."

  "What else?"

  "I don't know. I just think there's another reason for all this, and I wish I knew what it was."

  "Cupie, my friend, you're getting paranoid. Relax. We'll be in Tijuana by lunchtime t
omorrow, and we'll be rid of Mrs. Eagle."

  "I hope you're right," Cupie said doubtfully.

  "I am," Vittorio replied.

  Cupie watched him climb the stairs to the upper deck. "Something's wrong," he said aloud to himself.

  Thirty-three

  JOE BIG BEAR GOT OUT HIS DOUBLE-BARRELED SHOTGUN from the storage compartment under the living room sofa of his trailer and wiped it with an oily rag. He took it out to his pickup, rummaged in the aluminum tool chest bolted to the truck bed and came up with a good-size vise. He clamped the vise to the tailgate, got a battery-operated radial saw out of the toolbox, changed the blade and began working on the shotgun's barrels. Thirty minutes and two blades later, he had a sawed-off shotgun. He used the saw to take off most of the wooden stock, too, leaving only enough for a hand to grip. Finally, he filed the rims of the barrels to remove any burrs. The whole thing was only about two feet long. He loaded the weapon with double-ought buckshot and put it under the seat of the pickup. He was armed.

  * * *

  BARBARA CHECKED HER WATCH: they had been underway for forty minutes, which meant they were pretty much in the middle of the Gulf of California. Now to see if her luck was holding.

  She got out of the car and looked around; she was alone in the garage. She found the stairs and walked up two decks to the top of the little ship. She looked both ways from the door and saw no one, so she stepped out onto the deck. The wind from the ship's passage blew her hair around her face, and she brushed it aside as she walked aft. Vittorio was standing, his back to her, his hands on the rail, looking aft at the boiling wake. No one else was in sight. Perfect.

  She walked toward him, careful to keep her steps light. Then, when she had only six feet to go, he glanced over his shoulder and turned around, smiling. He leaned against the rail and opened his arms. "Come here," he said.

  She couldn't fight him face to face, she knew that; she'd have to think of something else. She moved into his arms, and the bulge at his crotch gave her the answer. She kissed him, grinding her body into his, and the bulge grew. The railing cut across his ass.

  "I know what you want," she said, reaching down and unzipping his fly.

  "Well, we are all alone up here, after all," he replied.

  She knelt, unbuckled his belt, pushed down his pants and took him into her mouth, getting a noisy response from him. He ran his fingers through her hair, took hold and pulled her to him.

  Shit, she thought. She pulled back and took him out of her mouth. "If you want me to keep doing this, don't mess up my hair," she said.

  He took his hands away and gripped the railing on either side of him. "Any way you want it, baby," he said.

  She continued her work, massaging his balls with one hand, and suddenly, convulsively, he began to come. She reached down, hooked her fingers under the bottoms of his jeans and heaved quickly upward.

  "Hey!" he yelled, grabbing at the railing, but it was too late. He flew backward over the side and disappeared into the frothy wake.

  She watched for a minute, but he didn't come up again. All that was left was his hat, floating upside down on the water. If they ever found him, an autopsy would show no violence, just drowning. She wiped her mouth with a tissue, threw it overboard and walked back toward the stairs. In a moment, she was back in the rear seat of the car, dozing off, satisfied. She didn't wake up until she heard the car door open.

  "Barbara?" Cupie said.

  She raised her head and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Huh?" She didn't have to act to look sleepy.

  "Have you seen Vittorio? We're coming into La Paz, and I can't find him."

  "No," she replied, "I've been asleep."

  "I'll go look again." He closed the car door and left.

  Now, she thought, there's only Cupie to deal with.

  Thirty-four

  CUPIE RAN UP THE STAIRS TO THE TOP DECK AND CHECKED one more time. He could feel the ferry slowing as it came into the dock. He looked around and saw another door, and he ran through that and climbed another short flight of stairs to the bridge.

  The door stood open, and he could see a uniformed officer at the helm, working the throttles to ease the ferry into its berth. When the man rang the telegraph for all stop, Cupie stepped onto the bridge.

  "Capitan?" he asked.

  The man turned. "Si. How can I help you, senor? Passengers are not allowed on the bridge."

  "There is a passenger missing," Cupie said. "Please do not allow anyone off the ferry until we have found him."

  The captain looked alarmed. "Who is this person?"

  "He is a business associate of mine, and his name is Vittorio, no last name."

  "What does he look like?"

  "He's about six feet tall, a hundred and seventy pounds, and he's dressed in black, with a black, flat-brimmed hat."

  "I have seen this person on the upper deck after we left Mazatlan," the captain said. "What happened?"

  "I don't know. After we sailed, I went to the snack bar and had some lunch, then read a newspaper. When we were approaching La Paz, I went to the upper deck to find him, but he wasn't there. I went down to my car, and he wasn't there, either. I've looked everywhere, and I can't find him."

  The captain picked up a microphone and made an announcement of a delay in disembarkation, then he led Cupie below and to the bow of the ship. He ordered one man to take two others and search the ship from stem to stern and another to watch the gangplank where foot traffic disembarked for anyone fitting Vittorio's description, then he and Cupie looked in each car and its trunk as it left the ferry, finding nothing.

  "Senor," the captain said. "You are absolutely certain he was aboard?"

  "I am absolutely certain; I came aboard in his company. You must call the coast guard and ask for a search of our route across the gulf. He can only have gone overboard."

  The captain nodded, produced a cell phone and made a call, speaking in rapid Spanish. He closed the phone. "It will be done immediately, senor," he said. "A boat will leave from Mazatlan and another from La Paz, and they will meet in the middle of the gulf, then make the return trip. The tide is slack, so if your friend fell overboard, he will not have drifted far. Can he swim?"

  "I don't know," Cupie said. He remembered seeing Vittorio coming out of the sea with Barbara, but he had not seen him actually swimming.

  "Senor, you must remove your car from the ferry, as we have to reload and return to Mazatlan. We will keep an eye out for your friend as we cross, so there will be three vessels looking for him. I suggest you inquire at the coast guard office at the head of the pier about the search."

  Cupie suddenly had an awful thought. "My friend had the key to the car," he said.

  "Then we must push it ashore," the captain replied.

  Cupie went back to the car and rousted Barbara, told her what had happened. "You and Vittorio went swimming together, didn't you?

  "Yes, back at the casita."

  "Could he swim?"

  "I don't know; we didn't go in very deep. He didn't seem to be afraid of the water."

  "We're going to be delayed, now," Cupie said. "I've got to contact the car rental company and get either a new key or a new car, and we have to wait and find out about the results of the search."

  "Of course, whatever's necessary. Do you really think he fell overboard?"

  "He's not on the ship; there's only one other place he can be, and it's being searched. You steer the car while we push."

  Barbara got into the front seat, and saw Cupie's cell phone on the passenger seat. She switched it off and put it into her handbag. No calls to Ed Eagle today.

  CUPIE SAT WITH BARBARA in a restaurant near their hotel, picking at his food. "I can't believe this," he said. "Are you sure you didn't see him again after we got out of the car?"

  "No. I told you, I went to sleep."

  "And why would he take my cell phone?"

  "I don't know. Maybe his battery was low, and he wanted to make a call."

  "I
guess that makes sense. I've got to call Eagle and tell him what's happened." He looked around for a phone.

  "Why don't you wait until you hear from the coast guard? You don't even know what to tell him yet."

  "Yeah, I guess. Listen, there's something I have to talk to you about."

  "What's that?"

  "Vittorio and I talked about this today, before he… whatever he did. There's something wrong about this business with the kidnappers and the policia."

  "Of course, there's something wrong," she said. "They're trying to kidnap me for my money."

  "It's more than that. Three hundred grand isn't much to these people; they get multimillion-dollar ransoms. There's got to be some other reason why they're so interested in you. Tell me what it is."

  Barbara looked baffled. "I don't have the faintest idea," she said. "Why would they want me for any other reason than my money?"

  "You said you'd been to Puerto Vallarta before, right?"

  "Yes, but that was years ago."

  "This whole business started after we got to Puerto Vallarta. Did anything happen on your last visit that would have interested the police?"

  "No, I came down with a girlfriend for a long weekend, and we liked it, so we stretched it into a week."

  "What did you do while you were there?"

  "The usual: we lay on the beach, drank margaritas, shopped, like that."

  "Did you get stopped by the police for any reason? Help me out here, Barbara. Help me to protect you. Why do these people want you?"

  "Cupie, this is crazy; the police here have no interest in me or, at least, not until I wired the three hundred thousand to the local bank. I think you were right: somebody at the bank tipped them off."

  Cupie sighed. "All right. The car rental company will supply a new key in the morning. We'll start after we hear from the coast guard, and we should be in Tijuana by nightfall."

  He didn't believe her, but he didn't know what else to do. One thing, though: he was going to watch his back for the rest of this trip.